


Pretend-o-Paradise

by melissfiction



Category: Solar Opposites
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, One-Shot, Past Relationship(s), Pretend-o-Deck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25707601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melissfiction/pseuds/melissfiction
Summary: Korvo and Terry each have their own Pretend-o-Paradise to slip away into after their fights.
Relationships: Korvotron "Korvo"/Terry (Solar Opposites), Terri/Terry (Solar Opposites)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 41





	Pretend-o-Paradise

Korvo had once again reached the critical point of abstract misery where the ache for rest was only a pain at the back of his mind. It was a difficult realm to master, one that often overlapped with the point where the most miniscule of imperfections set him off, but those were the dice he was addicted to rolling. As long as all was quiet, he could be at peace. His hands no longer had to shake, his pulse no longer had to quake, his mind no longer had to rake for excuses to seclude himself. He finally had the opportunity to slip out of his shared bed, into the ship, past a few twisting corridors, and into the Pretend-o-deck. 

Behind the vault door was his chance to seize control, to trade his REM cycle for a simulated lucid dream already fine-tuned with dials and sliders to his exact liking. There, he could be safe from the subconscious guilts propagandizing his sleep’s dreams. His mind was an unreliable narrator that wove character arcs accepting—what was the word, oh!— _ human  _ desires. Only humans could get a little bit right about the big picture and distort the rest into a nightmare. Korvo was Shlorpian. Perfection was the Shlorpian standard. 

“Welcome back, Korvo,” Aisha greeted. The system recognized his pattern quickly after five straight days of slipping into the deck around the same time, just a little bit after 1 AM. Her volume was automatically set to 20%. “Would you like to continue where you left off last time?”

“No. Let’s start over.” 

“Resetting tennis match fantasy…” 

Around him, a tennis court was projected. His blue striped pajamas and slippers became a white polo and white shorts and white sneakers. The sun behind him was an hour and twelve minutes from setting, which casted his shadow long, reaching past his side of the court and over the tennis net until it reached (not) Terry, wearing a simple pink polo with white shorts and bright, highlighter yellow sneakers. Terry was mindlessly tossing the tennis ball into the air and catching it in his right hand. In his left hand, a tennis racquet itched to start the match. He was smiling at Korvo. Terry always smiled—it was so easy for him to invite Korvo into his easy going personality and Korvo would never change that. Korvo wanted to keep that smile in a gold locket next to his heart. 

With nobody but illusions to see him, Korvo smiled too. For five nights, he had allowed himself to smile, slightly pushing up the bags in his eyes and exercising previously-atrophied muscles. A tennis racquet materialized in his left hand. Terry always served first. He stepped backwards into position, keeping his eyes on Terry’s smile, knowing that he had nothing to trip on behind him. 

“You ready, Korvy?” Terry called out. “I won’t go easy on you, this time!” 

Korvo had gotten into a fight with (real) Terry earlier that day. The same fight. The one where Korvo was upset at Terry’s utter incompetence at raising the Pupa and Terry pointed his finger right back at the infinite ship repairs and reminded him that Korvo was the first to jeopardize the mission. There was a human saying that “the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result”, but it was always a different problem that set it off. The Pupa changed a strange color, the Pupa was sick from candy somehow and it was definitely Terry’s fault no matter how much he denied it, the Pupa chewed up one of the ship repair manuals, but also the signalling area mesmerizer was coordinated wrong, the monitor-gate was unable to close, the modification scope-blazer wasn’t hot enough.

It ended the same, though. They whisper-screamed behind closed doors, took turns calling each other defects, ripped into every insecurity they could find. Then, the arguments got louder, the replicants began pressing their auditory sensors against the doors, the insults became easier to list and longer to end until they realized they were summoning toxic infinities and they had nothing left to say. It was mutually assured destruction, now. The crickets filled the gap of silence and that day, they simply moved on and retired to their bedtime routines. They were past the need for apologies. Korvo was afraid of how much more they would move past until he and Terry were finally detached. 

But this Terry would never leave him. “Bring it on!” Korvo yelled back. 

Terry threw the ball straight up, farther up that it needed to be tossed, and swatted it over to his partner with a loud  _ thwack.  _ They began their familiar rhythm, bouncing the ball into each other’s courts with grunts and running and pants interlaced. Muscle memory swinged Korvo’s racquet at the exact spots where he knew Terry would aim. He knew Terry like the back of his palm. He programmed this Terry, after all. 

Korvo was the first to score. He gave just the right amount of force to ricochet the ball just out of Terry’s range. “ _ Fuck _ yeah!” He tossed his arms into the air. “I sure brought it, didn’t I? Fifteen-love!” 

Terry smiled. That was all Korvo was here for— _ that smile _ . He didn’t run and fetch the ball while grumbling something about luck, this time. He just smiled. “Whatever you say, love!” 

The racquet fell out of Korvo’s hand, glitching upon impact. Korvo walked forward, mindlessly, phasing through the tennis net, until Terry’s smile was only inches from his face and his unsteady hands were grasped onto Terry’s. (There was that overlap, that disgusting imperfection which always set him off so easily.) 

“Say you love me,” Korvo pleaded. Terry’s smile became blurry under fresh, searing wetness. He ached. He yearned. He needed this. 

Terry obliged. “I love you, Korvotron.” He closed the gap between their lips for a pure, slow, chaste kiss that gave Korvo what he craved for so desperately, so hopelessly. “I always will,” he swore. “You’re perfect.” 

Korvo sobbed into Terry’s chest. All the wails and screams he couldn’t voice earlier to the real Terry reverberated into the tennis court. He succumbed to the arms wrapping around his shorter frame and ruined his throat with his cries, muffled by Terry’s warm chest. “I-I-I-I’m s-s-so  _ sorry! _ ” His nails dug into the back of the pink polo. “I-I’m so fucking sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t understand, either, why I do that to you, why I treat you so fucking shitty! I’m so sorry. P-Please believe me, I’m so sorry, Terry. I love you.” Gooblers erupted out of him so fast he swore he could feel a red one gestating deep in his guts. 

“Shh, shh, shh.” Terry’s voice was so soft, so forgiving. He stroked the back of Korvo’s head. “It’s okay, Korvo, I love you.” 

“I love you, too, Terry.” How he missed saying that. “I love you so much.” How he wished he could say it to the real Terry without fearing if it would be doubted. “I love you more than I hate myself.” How he hated himself even deeper with every repetition of this fantasy. 

Terry transitioned the projection to their living room, where he sat Korvo down on his lap and held him in his arms. Korvo’s weight sunk them a little bit deeper into the cushion, but Terry didn’t bring it up. Instead, he held Korvo tight and didn’t let go. “I know, baby. I know.” 

“Why am I so mean?” 

“You’re not mean, you’re just scared.” The real Terry used to say that, too, and he used to hold Korvo tight just like this and argue all the demons away. 

“I’m bad for you.” 

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, baby.” 

“You miss Terri-with-an-I.” 

“I never think about her.” 

“You wish you could’ve stayed behind and gotten blown up with her.” 

Terry grabbed Korvo by the shoulders and forced eye contact. “Is that what _ he  _ said to you?” 

Korvo shielded his crying face with his hands and nodded. 

“ _ I  _ wouldn’t trade anything for this life, Korvo.  _ I  _ love you. I…” He clenched his teeth and tightened his grip. “I can’t believe  _ he _ would say that to you!” 

Korvo shook his head. He tried endlessly to wipe his tears away with the back of his hand. “It’s my fault—”

“Is that what he said?” 

“It  _ is  _ my fault!” Korvo’s voice cracked as he screamed. “He’s right!  _ I’m _ right! I’m a fuck-up!” 

Terry plucked a tissue out of a tissue box that materialized beside him. He gently wiped away Korvo’s tears. “My Korvy,” he cooed. “Baby. That’s not true.” 

“It is,” Korvo whispered. “I start every single one of our fights.” 

Terry kissed Korvo’s wet face. “Let me end them, then.” He showered small, butterfly kisses all over Korvo’s cheek. “Love me. Love someone who loves you back. I want to take care of you.” 

Korvo needed this. 

* * *

Terry woke up next to a sleeping Korvo, who was sprawled out in the soft morning light with an open pill bottle spilling out of his hand. That was how he had woken up for the past five days and he wondered why he thought this morning would be any different. Korvo hadn’t even bothered tugging a blanket over himself before he passed out. (They used different blankets, now, so that Terry wouldn’t have to tug the blanket out from under Korvo’s fat ass every night.) Terry opened the curtains wider for Korvo’s unconscious body to sunbathe in. 

He held Korvo’s limp hand in his before he left the room. Korvo’s hands were soft, smooth, and devoid of any callouses. Terry often traced those fingers, over the lines and crinkles, hoping to memorize the fingerprints. Korvo grasped but not grabbed, he typed instead of wrote, tinkered and never constructed. Terry used to feel Korvo’s conditioned delicacy with every caress before a kiss. He planted multiple, feather-light kisses on Korvo’s cheek, but then stopped. Korvo wouldn’t curl in closer to him or breathe out a sigh of relief or hold his hand back. All he had in that moment was Korvo’s physical form, without the emotional form to color him in. Not that there was much in that department, anyway. 

Terry left Korvo’s drooling, snoring, uncovered body and went downstairs to get started on the replicants’ breakfast: cereal and milk, again. This would be his sixth time distributing a pile of Funbucket loops into three bowls instead of scrambled eggs and bacon and pancakes on four plates. But as he descended the stairs, he heard a crackle of oil, smelled sausages, and then he descended further and rounded a corner to find Yumyulack complaining that Jesse set the fire too hot while staring at a hot waffle maker. There were four plates set beside the stovetop, already adorned with two triangle halves of toast and a dollop of whipped butter. 

“Good morning, replicants!” Terry turned down the stovetop dial just a few degrees, because Yumyulack was actually right, Jesse would burn the sausages at this rate. “You guys are up early.” 

“It’s ten o’clock,” Yumyulack said. 

That meant it was Saturday, already. That meant Terry had fought with Korvo every school night. 

“Is Korvo up, yet?” Jesse asked. 

“No, he won’t be up for a while.” Terry had no idea how many pills Korvo took, this time. 

The red light on the waffle maker darkened, which lit the green light. The chocolate waffles were ready. They were Korvo’s favorite, but dammit, they would be cold by the time he woke up. Yumyulack opened up the waffle maker and forked the waffles over to Korvo’s plate. He regretted urging Jesse to set that extra plate aside. He thought that this morning would be the end of Korvo’s oversleeping because it was Saturday, and he thought that Saturday was going to be a good day. There are no good days. 

Yumyulack sprayed non-stick oil into the waffle maker, fanning away the gross buttery cloud from his face with his hand, and poured regular pancake mix into the hot iron. He filled it just enough to fill in all the edges, but not all the way full like he did the first time when he messed up and Jesse slapped him with an annoying I-told-you-so. “Why do you two fight so much?”

Terry leaned against a counter. He sighed. “I don’t know,” he confessed. Yumyulack had asked him that same question while he was tucking him and Jesse into bed last night, and last night he called it Korvo’s fault because Korvo was so mean all the time, but now Terry realized it took two to tango. It was his fault, too. “Just give him some space, alright? He’s just scared.” 

“Of what?” Yumyulack challenged. 

“Of the Pupa evolving into its final form and terraforming the planet, annihilating us along with the native species.” 

“Oh, so he’s  _ not  _ scared of you packing up and leaving us to go to San Diego?” Yumyulack scoffed. 

“ _ Yumyulack _ ,” Jesse hissed. 

“Just get a divorce, already!” Yumyulack slammed his fists onto the granite counter. “Two Christmases! I can live with that! Just stop fighting, already!” He wasn’t afraid of waking Korvo up. He knew about the pills. He wasn’t afraid of saying all of this to Terry’s face, either, because only Terry was never fazed by his tantrums. Terry, who never backed down from Korvo’s yelling and throwing of nearby objects and deranged rants about his latest obsession, knew how to see past the anger and into the fear. 

Terry crossed his arms. “You know we can’t. We’re each other’s assigned evacuation partners.” 

There was their sour reality. They were never a family, but rather a team unit on a mission to resurrect their homeworld, to destroy the American dream and immortalize the glory of Shlorp and so they could later continue the same cycle: reincarnate, live, die. Lather, rinse, repeat. Wake up, argue, sleep. 

“I just want it to stop.” 

* * *

Breakfast was awkward. Korvo wasn’t awake, yet. The replicants were playing with the Pupa. That left Terry alone with his can of Pepsi, idly wandering through the ship, as if his true intention weren’t to eventually give in and shut himself into the Pretend-o-deck. He gave in quickly. The door slammed behind him. 

“Welcome back, Terry,” Aisha greeted. The system recognized his pattern quickly after six straight days of slipping into the deck around the same time, just a little bit after 1 PM. Her volume was automatically set to 70%. “Would you like to continue where you left off last time?”

“No,” Terry said. He wasn’t in the mood for masturbation, just yet. “Let me talk to Terri.” 

Aisha projected Terry just outside of Shlorp-a-Juice, his favorite smoothie shop where he and his lifemate first met. His gray “I Have Mixed Drinks About Feelings” T-shirt and black shorts became his Shlorpian robe with a shiny magenta teardrop gem. He was an hour and twelve minutes late to meeting Terri for the first time for their presentation on the Pupa’s digestive system. Inside the shop, he scanned the low resolution Shlorpians frozen in various poses until he found his project partner, sitting in a far table in the corner and idly sipping on a lavender-infatuationberry-moonflower smoothie. She immediately looked up as soon as she heard the door jingle, and waved at him. Terry sat down across from her. 

“You’re late.” 

Dammit, what was Terry’s line again? “Umm, uhhh—oh! ‘My alarm clock is on the fritz.’” 

Terri shook her head. “No, it was your watch.” 

“Ah, right.” Never mind this stupid roleplay, though. “I miss you.” 

“I know,” she said smugly. She always had all the answers, and he was her favorite cheater. That was the only way she could live on, through passing down her knowledge. She was barren. She chopped off her toe, ripped out her rib, cut off a chunk of her thigh, but none flourished long enough to bear a replicant. “You’re upset about Korvo again, aren’t you?” 

“Yup.” Terry took a sip of her smoothie. Damn. Terri always did have great taste in smoothies. “I’m so tired of fighting. Why can’t I make him happy?” 

“You don’t ‘make’ people happy.” Terri snatched her smoothie away and materialized a new smoothie, same flavor, for her lifemate. “Remember when I accused you of cheating?” 

“Which time?” For the record, Terry did  _ not  _ actually cheat on Terri. He always texted her that he wanted a break from their relationship whenever he wanted to sleep with anyone else. But he didn’t actually sleep with anyone else, because she could always find where he ran and she always knew how to force the altar of logic down Terry’s throat so they could make up. 

“The third time. When you had that dream about kissing our Communications professor during office hours—” 

“Oh my god! It was a dream, Terri! That doesn’t count!” 

“ _ It counts _ . Anyway, you said that same thing to me, about not being able to make me happy, remember?” 

“Yeah, I remember.” He sipped on his smoothie. 

“You can’t ‘make’ anyone happy. You talk to them and understand how to love them. Did you talk to him?” 

“He’s asleep.” 

Terri smirked. The door jingled. In came Korvo, nervously looking around and refusing to take a step further until Terri waved him over to their table. Terry was disturbed at how realistic this fake Korvo’s mannerisms were. 

“Hello, Terri,” Korvo said. He stood in front of them instead of just materializing a chair to seat himself in. “I mean, Terri-with-an-I. But I guess that’s obvious because that’s your name, and I’m talking to you, and why would I introduce myself to the Terry I’ve already met…” Korvo darted his eyes towards Terry for help from this imaginary awkward situation he’s construed. “Um…” 

Terri grabbed Korvo’s hand and shook it. “It’s nice to meet you, Korvo.” Her calm demeanor was enough to soothe his worries. 

“What the fuck?” Terry blurted out. “This is fucked.” He wasn’t here to act out a made-up scenario of his current partner meeting his dead previous partner. He couldn’t bring himself to pause the simulation, though. Terri always knew what was best for him. Even this fake Terri. 

Korvo and Terri gave a quick glance to Terry, then resumed. 

Korvo cleared his throat. “So, you’re the Pupa Specialist that helped Terry cheat himself through planetary destruction?” 

“Yes, that’s me.” 

Korvo frowned. “You shouldn’t have done that.” 

“Seriously?” Terry looked up towards a distant point in the ceiling where he imagined Aisha was, like an invisible god. “Even  _ this  _ Korvo is going to tell me I’m a fuck-up?” 

Terri stood up. “I’ll let you two talk.” 

Terry grabbed her wrist. “Wait…” 

She gave him a quick kiss goodbye before she faded away. “You’ll be fine. Just talk.” 

Terry touched his lips and stared at the empty spot where Terri used to be. She was gone. She always has been. Korvo sat at Terri’s seat. 

“Ugh. What’s the point of talking to a fake Korvo?” Terry crossed his arms. “It’s not going to change anything.” 

“I have compiled all of Korvo’s behavior and interactions for the past two years, statistically predicting every possible reaction Korvo would have in any situation and calculating the most probable one based on your current standing in your relationship with him,” (not) Korvo said. “With this much data, I know him better than you do.” 

That was so creepy. Terry was going to read one of Korvo’s boring manuals as soon as he was done with this simulation so he could disable Aisha’s creepy spy features. 

“Yes, it  _ is  _ creepy. But don’t disable it, it’s what makes the Pretend-o-deck so accurate.” Korvo didn’t mention that the other house occupants depended on that information for their simulations. 

“So, what, I’m supposed to talk things out with you?” He tried to look for some kind of flaw in the simulation’s portrayal of Korvo, some discoloration or pixel out of place, but Aisha really nailed it. Korvo was indistinguishable from Korvo. It probably wasn’t hard, anyway, given how robotic Korvo already was. “Korvo wouldn’t listen to me, you should know that.” 

Korvo chuckled dryly. “I spoke too soon. Maybe you really do know him better. I’ll raise my Sympathy settings by 30%. How’s that?” 

“Way too high. Make it 10%.” 

“Alright, done.” 

Terry stared at Korvo. He had no idea where to start. Usually, he only used Pretend-o-Korvo when he was horny, not for some kind of simulated couple’s counseling. He held out his hand palm-up on the table, to which Korvo responded by interlacing their fingers. All the ridges were in the right places. 

And Korvo just stared back at him. He wasn’t saying anything, but Terry felt that he was getting impatient. Terry had no idea how the hell he was possibly getting threatening vibes from a projection. 

“Okay,” Korvo said, “I’ll start. Why do you keep giving the Pupa candy?” 

Terry withdrew his hand to gesture his emphasis. “I don’t!” It all came spilling out. “Seriously! That was  _ one  _ time, Korvo, and you never let it go. You never let anything go! How do you expect me to ‘learn from my mistakes’ if the only thing you see in me are my mistakes?” 

“Because you make so many damn mistakes and never learn from them! You cheated your way through the academy with your hot lifemate and now our mission is jeopardized!” 

A few Shlorpians suddenly developed higher resolution and started casting suspicious looks towards them. Terry immediately crossed his arms, trying to hide his gem, until he remembered it was all fake. He didn’t need to fear execution, anymore. “Let’s talk about this at home.” 

Korvo transitioned their surroundings to their dining room, sitting at the exact same spots across from each other but now without any nosy witnesses, not even fake versions of the replicants hiding behind a wall. Terry’s robe pixelated away and revealed his original outfit underneath. That was better. 

“It’s a Pupa, Korvo. You feed it and keep it alive, then it terraforms the planet. You don’t need an expert to do that.” 

“You  _ do _ , actually, because now we’re stranded on Earth with it and we don’t know when it’s going to go off!” 

“And whose fault is that!” Terry was yelling, again. He was going to need an ibuprofen for his throat after this. “You’re projecting, Korvo! And I’m not just saying that because we’re literally in a projection—you’re just upset at me because I’m the easiest target! I take all of your bitching, all of your complaining, all of your stupid passive-aggressive bullshit, and what do I get? More bullshit! I’m never going to be good enough for you!” 

“Fuck you! W-What did you expect? You’re...” Korvo briefly searched for another phrase to replace his intended dialogue. “You’re bad at your  _ one  _ job!” 

Terry didn’t miss Korvo’s uncharacteristic pause. There was that 10% increase in Sympathy. Korvo was about to call him useless. He had to remind himself that this simulation was to help him  _ make up _ with Korvo, not find more reasons to be upset at him. He took in a deep breath. “What… can I do for you? To make you hate me a little less?” 

“You can suck my—” 

“—Increase Honesty settings to 80%.” 

Korvo unclenched his fists and softened his expression. “Say you love me.” 

Terry hesitated. “I love you.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

Fucking seriously? “Increase Honesty settings to 100%.” 

“I  _ want _ to believe you, but I… I can’t.” 

Terry tried to blink back tears. “Why, Korvo?” he begged. “I’m trying so hard to love you.” He didn’t have any other choice. “You’re all I have.” Terri was gone. Shlorp was gone. And soon, Earth would be, too. 

“I don’t know.” 

Terry paused the simulation. 

* * *

Korvo woke up when he heard a clatter of a plate being set down on his nightstand and the soft closing of a door. He sat up. It was half past one. He put the plate on his lap and took a bite out of a soggy maple syrup-soaked chocolate waffle. There was a note hiding under the plate. With a line striking through it was Jesse’s handwriting: “Made with luv!” and a rounded heart that looked more like a bean. Underneath was Yumyulack’s handwriting: “Get a divorce” in some chicken scratch abomination breed between the homeworld’s language and English. 

Yumyulack’s affection was unconventional, but Korvo could see it in his misshapen chocolate waffles, the fact that the strikethrough of Jesse’s words still made the original message visible, the retention of Shlrop’s original language, and sometimes, Yumyulack would come up to the ship with an outdated Earth textbook shielded over his chest and ask for math homework help. “Get a divorce” meant “Make up, already.” It was the logical solution, but…

No “but”s. Korvo just had to suck it up and say sorry, at least for the sake of their replicants. 

As soon as he finished his gross, cold, soggy breakfast, he checked the living room for Terry. Jesse was holding up flashcards of various words, trying to teach the Pupa how to speak. Yumyulack was arguing that she was supposed to teach the alphabet first, but Jesse told him that, somehow, the Pupa already knew the alphabet despite not being able to provide evidence. Then, it devolved into an infinite cycle of nuh-uh versus uh-huh. 

“Shut up,” Korvo said. “Have either of you seen Terry?” 

“He went up to the ship,” Jesse answered. 

Korvo had a feeling that Terry was in the Pretend-o-deck. So he followed it and went back upstairs, up to the ship, and reached the vault door. It wasn’t locked. He knocked anyway, because he didn’t have the guts to walk in on whatever fantasies Terry wanted to hide from him, but there was no answer or hasty command to pause the simulation. Korvo walked in. 

It was a projection of Shlorp, a little past the area where Korvo and Terry met for the first time, with fountains flowing serenely all around. Terry was in his Shlorpian robe facing away from Korvo. He was with Terri. They weren’t talking. Korvo slowly approached Terry, wondering if Terry had even noticed his presence. Even with his footsteps echoing around the fountain plaza, Terry didn’t turn around. Only Terri acknowledged Korvo, with a small smile. 

“You meant it, didn’t you?” Korvo asked. “When you said you wished you stayed behind with her.” 

“I did,” Terry confessed, softly. “That’s why you’re so mad at me, right? It’s not that I’m not good enough for you. You think you’ll never be good enough for me.” 

“You’re right.” Korvo chuckled dryly. “For once.” 

Terry turned around. 

“Let’s end this.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I think I might write a bad ending and a good ending but idk because Summer Session 2 just started for me 
> 
> Also unrelated but it's my birthday today!


End file.
